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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233146">Running Up That Hill</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockedHerselfOut/pseuds/LockedHerselfOut'>LockedHerselfOut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Placebo (UK Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockedHerselfOut/pseuds/LockedHerselfOut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan has a secret he can’t share with a soul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Molko/Stefan Olsdal, Molsdal - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written around 2012 for the Placebo forum as a 'fanfic challenge'.<br/>Based around interpreted lyrics of their Kate Bush cover of "Running Up That Hill".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Running Up That Hill</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>[Part 1 of 2]</strong>
</p><p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> Don't own the band. Don't sue.</p><p>
  <strong>*~*</strong>
</p><p>This tour had looked so damn hopeful in the beginning and it had been progressing so nicely. And the worst part of all was that you were so happy, so optimistic in a way I had never seen before. I hadn’t seen that side of you for years. Placebo didn’t ‘do’ happy, and here we were, so full of anticipation for what the future would bring us.</p><p>Maybe that was the reason I kept the truth from you, the reason why I couldn’t tell you. I had spent weeks trying to let the reality fully sink in, but when I could barely accept it, how was I suppose to expect you to? After I had found out, I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to keep it from you, but god knows I tried, even though I had to try a little harder every day.</p><p>I know you, Brian. You’re impulsive, you react quickly and I know you would absolutely go nuts if you knew, if I let you find out. I couldn’t do it.</p><p>I tried to ignore it, simply deny what was slowly happening to my body until it had gotten to a point where I couldn’t ignore it or deny it anymore.</p><p>I was having a hard time jogging in the morning like I usually did- my muscles were weak and my joints were in constant pain. A symptom that I was hoping I would be too strong to let affect me.</p><p>I had been losing weight too, but thank god I’m so damn lanky, so damn skinny anyway, that no one took notice. I tried to keep my shirt on more times than not, especially on stage because I could count my own ribs in my reflection- and I couldn’t let you become aware of that. I was practically scaring myself.</p><p>We were supposed to be going on tour, heading off to promote Battle for the Sun, all bright-eyed and tails wagging in only about a month’s time. I was excited, how could I not be? But, I knew my radiation therapy I had been receiving the past 13 weeks in small doses, the radiation therapy I had been hiding from you the best I damn well could… was wearing me down. I practically felt sick and nauseous all the time and I could fall asleep practically anywhere.</p><p>I basically passed out in the middle of a practice session, a run-through of ‘Come Undone’ and you had been worried, I could see the look on your face, asking if I was alright. No, I wasn’t alright. I hadn’t been alright for a while, but as usual, I kept quiet.</p><p>I lied. I lied and you had believed me. You believed me because I never lied to you; I always told you everything. We had always told each other everything, the darkest corners of our lives, but this I couldn’t tell.</p><p>Staying up too late was the poor excuse I used and you bought it, or maybe you just did because you didn’t want to question it further. I still don’t know, but at the time, it was good enough. God how I hated seeing your eyes large and pleading, looking up at me so hopeful, knowing that you were hoping, praying that I wasn’t lying to you. It killed me to know I was, but I didn’t know what else to do.</p><p>As the weeks went by, our practices became more frequent, more intense in preparation. I was used to it, we both were and I knew it had been coming, but as my disease ravaged my body, I could no longer keep up with my mind. I wanted to do more than my physical self would let me, the frequent pain and fatigue kicked in.</p><p>I had hoped I was hiding it from you well, keeping it a little secret all to myself, but after a practice, you had waited till everyone had left, until everyone had piled out of the studio. I remember going to grab my bag and stopping, looking up at you staring at me. Your hair had gotten so long, it was touching your shoulders and when you didn’t insist on putting it back in that damn ponytail- you looked absolutely breathtaking. Well, you’ve always been breathtaking, but your face so serious, your eyes so large, outlined with slight mascara and eyeliner, I could stare at you for days.</p><p>“Stef-,” you started, looking down at the floor before you continued, as if you were gathering the courage to say what you wanted to say. I remember the moment I heard you utter my name, my breath stopped in my throat, and my stomach felt like it was in my chest. Maybe my heart stopped beating too, I can’t even remember. Sometimes you made me weaker in the knees than any disease could.</p><p>“Wha-t… Bri?” I asked, chocking the words out as I pushed my thin fringe out of my eyes, giving a smile I often always gave you- to let you know I was okay. I hoped you would believe me, but when you didn’t smile back, I knew you didn’t and I remember becoming scared- instantly. I can honestly admit I was more scared of what you would do once you found out over what this disease could ultimately do to me. I cared more about protecting you from knowing than protecting me from this thing that felt like it was eating me whole from the inside out ever since I found out I had it.</p><p>You walked towards me, staring at me right in the eyes, looking up for an answer.</p><p>“Are you okay? You haven’t been yourself lately, Stef. I feel like you haven’t been yourself lately for… a while,” you finished, swallowing. You look frightened and I bit my bottom lip, hoping you couldn’t read me as well as you usually could.</p><p>“I’m fine,” I said quickly, chuckling to brush it off.</p><p>“You don’t look fine.” I looked back up at you. Your statement was bold, almost as bold as your stare was. It was unapologetic and you didn’t look away.</p><p>“I’m fine, Brian,” I lied again. “Just been really tired lately. Can you blame me? Practice has been getting a little fierce- we have a lot to do.”</p><p>A lot to do.<br/>There was no more to do than what we normally did to prepare for the release of a new album- for an upcoming tour, you knew that too. You knew I was making excuses. You’re not stupid. You do stupid things sometimes, Brian, but I know you’re far from stupid.</p><p>“Promise?” Here we were in our thirties and you asked me to promise… like a child asking another to ‘pinkie swear’. And once again, I was about to lie to you, but I did it for you.</p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>*-*</p><p>My last radiation treatment before we headed out onto the road left me feeling like I had just gotten the shit beat out of me- twice in a row. The worst part though, was the argument from my doctor. He insisted I shouldn’t go, that it was hard on me mentally and physically and it was the last thing my body needed right now.</p><p>Telling my doctor I was fine wasn’t as easy as telling you, Bri. It was possible to continue with my treatment while traveling around Europe, possible, but a challenge in itself to keep it from not just you- but from everybody. Not a soul knew of my condition, not even my own parents. My fear of you finding out motivated me to keep it from every single human being that cared about me in fear it would get back to you. I just wanted to get better, to fix myself and pretend it never happened.</p><p>Our relationship had been strained a little bit since we let the kid into the band, it’s true. I rarely came by your flat anymore, we rarely slept together anymore. I’ll be honest. I missed our sex, I missed fucked you into oblivion, listening to your cries of pleasure, but I missed falling asleep with you the most- holding your sweaty body to my own.</p><p>The only positive part of it all was that you didn’t see me, sore and aching in the morning, barely able to crawl out of bed sometimes. You weren’t there to notice my lack of appetite, to notice I was barely eating because I simply wasn’t hungry. To notice how every spot on my body was tender, how I bruised like a damn peach. Sharing a bed with you would only let you notice my symptoms all that much more, so distant we stayed. It was for your own good and mine.</p><p>All my worries of treatment on tour though had been a fucking waste of time, as I failed to on our very first gig. The first show to kick off our new album was in London, at Sonisphere Festival. The very first show we did, I practically cried. My bones ached, my muscles ached, and fuck- every part of me ached. And the strap of my guitar dug into me almost as bad as my belt did just to keep my jeans up that had become that much looser, ‘The Bitter End’ had been one of my favorites to play and all I could do was wish for it to end- and soon. We were only four songs in and I already felt like we had played for hours. I was nearly crying as I looked down at my bass, hoping my fingers would hold out and play the rest of the song. If anyone asked, I would say it was the bright lights, making me sweat.</p><p>When I heard the crowd cheer, I knew the song had finally finished and you looked over at me with a smile. It was a self-satisfied smile and I always adored seeing it on your face. Yes, this was our success, soak it up, gorgeous. You deserved it. We deserved it. However, the grin faded as soon as you saw me looking away, bent over a little, clenching my teeth. I felt so sick; I remember feeling like I was going to vomit all over the fucking stage- emptying the contents of my stomach for all our fans to see.</p><p>That moment was the beginning of the end. After that, I remember the horrid queasiness and finally throwing up all over the stage in front of me- all eyes and cameras on me as I dropped to my knees, expelling my guts to the world and passing out face first into my own stench. Oh god, Brian, I never wanted you to find out this way- not in a million years. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle it all.</p><p>I don’t know what happened in between that moment to when I woke up. I didn’t see the paramedics come get me, I didn’t see the show ending suddenly, I didn’t see myself in an ambulance, and I didn’t get to see your face when the doctor told you I was sick. They were all details I had been mildly informed of after I gained consciousness and afterwards I felt like passing right back out to not deal with the reality of it.</p><p>Waking up and seeing you beside my hospital bed, your beautiful greenish-blue eyes glistening in the bright white hospital lights, makeup smudged. You looked like an angel, a total wreck inside, but an angel, the sheer whiteness from the bare hospital room making you look far more angelic than I knew you really were. I remember opening my eyes and seeing you there, close beside me, looking down to see you clutching onto my left hand so fiercely, almost afraid to let go.</p><p>“Stefan?” your voice was hoarse, maybe from the show earlier or maybe because you had been crying- I didn’t really want to know. It broke my heart to see you look so torn apart; it was the exact reason why I had kept this from you. “Thank god you’re awake,” you said with a sigh of relief. Your face was so puffy and red as I watched you push some of your long locks behind your ear. You had been crying. Oh, Brian.</p><p>“Hey,” I whispered, my lymph nodes had swelled to what felt like tennis balls and I was still rather short of breath as I tried to struggle out a laugh. “I guess all those long hours in the studio finally… caught up with me, huh?” I finished quietly, giving a smile.</p><p>Your eyes shot daggers towards me though, I almost felt like cowering. You were angry, pissed, hurt, and upset all at once and you had every right to be, but I had hoped in that moment you had understood why I had hid what I hid, but of course you didn’t. We both matter, don’t we?</p><p>“Oh STOP!” you cried, suddenly lowering your voice when you realized where you were again- the beeping of the machines beside me a constant annoying reminder.</p><p>“Bri,” I started, voice still a little hoarse before you pulled your hand away from me.</p><p>“How could you KEEP this from me, Stefan?! How long were you planning to lie to my bloody face?! HUH? How long did you think you would keep this up for?!” your words were harsh, but you were broken inside- I could tell by every tear that fell down your face and I frowned, looking away. I couldn’t look at you, I couldn’t deal with it.</p><p>“Bri- I kept it from you, to protect you,” I replied softly, no energy to get upset or yell. You stayed seated, grabbing some tissues from the box on the table next to my bed and blowing your nose as you let some more tears fall- trying to hold them back. I know you wanted to look pissed, look mad, but your concern for me far surpassed it. And for that, I was truly sorry.</p><p>“Stef,” you cried, “Why didn’t you tell me!? You could have gotten worse; our tour could have made you worse! Why would you do that to yourself?! I feel so fucking stupid for not catching on, this whole time I thought you were trying to avoi-,” you stopped not because you wanted to, but simply because you were full on crying- hard. You were crying as hard as if you had been next to my damn grave instead of my hospital bed and I felt fully and completely responsible for it. I reached out to grab your arm, to pull it closer to mine. This was my fault, all my fucking fault and I was so sorry, I’m still sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do to you was cause you any pain and you knew that.</p><p>“Bri- I’m so sorry, I just wanted to make it go away before a soul found out.” Make it go away. I made my disease sound like a pesky fly that could easily be taken care of with a swatter. Simple and clean, but life wasn’t like that. Life was never that easy. Right when I felt like we had gotten to a good place, it had been torn away from me as quickly as it had appeared.</p><p>“How long did you know you had leukemia for, Stef?” You wiped at your tears, taking a deep breath, trying to contain yourself for me.</p><p>“About 6 months,” I replied flatly, looking down at the dark blue hospital blanket that wasn’t quite thick enough to make a noose and hang myself with. Fuck. “What has the … doctor told you?” I was afraid to ask, but knew I had to. Brian leered.</p><p>“Not a fucking lot, confidentiality my fucking ARSE, I almost ripped his head off, so you better fill me in! I swear to fucking, god, Stefan, if you don’t start telling me the bloody truth-,” your breathing was heavy, your eyes narrowed. “We never keep anything from each other!”</p><p>“I’ve been in radiation treatment for almost 4 months- there hasn’t been a lot of improvement,” I said matter-of-factly. “But I’m staying hopeful, I have to.” You tried to say something, reply but you barely squeaked before you began to cry, leaning over to hug me, pull me into the first embrace since I had woken up and I won’t lie this time – I really needed it.</p><p>“Stefan,” you cried. “You have to fucking get better, fuck the tour, fuck the album! It all can fucking WAIT! I love you.” You were crying into my shoulder, holding me so tight, I felt like God himself couldn’t rip me from your grip even if he wanted to.</p><p>“Shhh,” I said softly, holding you, trying to comfort you in the best way I could laying a hospital bed. I pet your head, letting my fingers run through your shiny black locks and knowing I had you to fight for, not just myself. “I’m going to be okay! I love you too.”</p><p>*-*</p><p>After that, after you found out, I had to deal with the pity and ‘get well’s’ from everyone else. Sean, Nick, Fiona, Bill, Steve, even Alex. Everyone found out one by one, so upset and worried, I hated looking at all their sympathetic faces; it somehow made me feel weaker than I already felt, though yours was the worse. You barely had a smile on your face now, insisting on staying with me in the hospital, to hold my hand like a child for the night I was there. I hated what I did to you, I sucked the light right out of you. Battle for the Sun, after that, took on a whole new meaning. I was battling for both of us.</p><p>When the doctor came and talked to us, alone in my room, the monitors beeping, I didn’t want to hear a damn word he had to say to me, I didn’t want to hear anything. I wanted to leap out of the bed, grab you, and get right back on our bus and head off into the sunset- off to a gig that we could rock out in- just to see that gorgeous smile on your face as the fans cheered us on. It would all be worth it.</p><p>Instead, I was hit with more painful words from my reality.</p><p>“You aren’t taking to the levels of radiation in the way I had hoped you would,” said my doctor, quite frankly looking from you to me. “We can increase the dosage but I don’t think it’s the best plan of action. You’re very weak right now-.” Brian didn’t let him finish, like I knew he wouldn’t. I know you too well, Brian.</p><p>“Well what do we do now, then?!” you spat, a little angrier than you intended. You were so nervous; on the edge of your seat- I could see it in your eyes. “If this isn’t working, we have to fucking try something else!” Your fire, Brian, it’s always been something I loved about you, but it wasn’t the time to unleash it. It wasn’t his fault I had this, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.</p><p>“Bri,” I said softly, simply to tell you to calm down. You looked at me, eyes full of worry, able to burst into tears at any moment.</p><p>“There is a treatment center that specializes in leukemia patients. Your best bet would be there. Test treatments, it could be your best shot. Sooner the better,” he said- trying to sound positive. Key word- trying. Brian blew his nose, looking over at me again.</p><p>“Then that’s what we got to do,” you said quickly, summoning every nerve to not start sobbing again. “We’ll send him as soon as we can get him on a plane, where?”</p><p>“The MD Anderson Cancer Center in Texas, USA. They’ve developed many treatments, in my expert opinion; it would give you the best chance possible.” I wanted to tell my doctor to shove his expert opinion right up his fucking asshole, but I knew he was right.</p><p>“Texas? That’s so far…,” you started, thinking for a moment before looking at me. “You have to do it.” There was no maybes or buts.</p><p>Texas was far from everyone and everything I knew, it was on the other side of the planet but I knew I had to what I had to do, you knew it too or you wouldn’t have told me to go.</p><p>“I’ll go.”</p><p>“I’m going too,” you said sternly, “You’re not doing this alone.”</p><p>“Bri-,” I began to argue, but you put your hand up to me. Your ‘polite’ way of telling me to shut up and that you had the last word. It was nice to know some things never changed.</p><p>“I’ll call the treatment center and find the soonest possible date that we can send you in.”</p><p>He hadn’t even left the room yet before I felt your arms wrapped around me again and it was the only strength I needed to tell me I could go- that I could handle this. And it was something I really needed too, especially after he came back to tell me that I would be able to fly out as soon as Monday. Only four fucking days away.</p><p>This all felt so sudden and the worst part was that everything we had worked for, all our writing, recording, I felt like I had let the band down- our fans down. And you refused to do the tour, to do interviews, to do a fucking thing with our baby, with Placebo, until I … as you worded it “got through this.” Not even a doubt in your mind that I wouldn’t come back at all. None of you seemed upset with me, I knew you wouldn’t be, but you didn’t have to, I was upset enough at myself for everyone.</p><p>When I was finally released later that afternoon after much argument from my side to finally be able to go home to sleep in my bed- you had told me there was no way I was going to my flat. You were acting like the parent, the level-headed one for once.</p><p>We had swapped places. You told me that I was to come back with you, so you could look after me. I had laughed, practically scoffed at the thought. All these years, I had been the one looking after you and here you were, holding my arm as we walked up the few flights to your flat like I was a child.</p><p>“I’m okay, Bri. I can walk by myself,” I laughed, trying to shrug everything that had lead up to this right off, but you weren’t having it- your grip didn’t loosen. You were sweet, though. You were the Brian I truly remembered.</p><p>You made us some soup, toast and tea and we snuggled up together in your room to watch a movie. I can’t even remember what movie it was either, that’s how nice it was to lay next to you. All I could think about was how wonderful it was to lay right beside you again after so many months, how badly I had missed being this close to you.</p><p>When whatever we had watched ended, credits rolling up the screen, I remember pulling away from you- about to get up to go sleep on your couch. I may have been the sick one, but I was still a gentleman. I was gay after all. But you noticed right away, looking up at me like I was absolutely crazy.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“The couch,” I said softly, giving him a smile. We hadn’t shared a bed for a night for a little while now, quite a few months, and I didn’t think my illness would really change that and the last thing I wanted to do was make you feel awkward.</p><p>“Get your arse back in this fucking bed,” you said, staring at me. My eyes widened a bit as I sat back down. How could something as small as you be so damn intimidating?</p><p>“I’m not going to steal your bed. I may be ill, but I’m not ru-,” you cut me off. Of course you cut me off, Bri, you always have the last word.</p><p>“This bed is huge and there’s plenty of room for both of us, you’re staying right here.” After that, there was no more argument, no more words shared as you pulled me back into the bed. I couldn’t help but smile though, enjoying your hospitality as I got back under the warm covers.</p><p>I felt your body move closer to mine, your arms wrapping around my midsection- truly able to feel how much weight I had lost, able to feel my hip-bones jutting out- well more than usual. You knew I was unwell, you could practically feel it and I hated it. You remained quiet, though, and very still. I could barely hear you breathing. I stayed still as well and it didn’t take me long to fall asleep- it didn’t take much to wear me out anymore and I hated how old that made me feel. My leukemia felt like it was aging me far beyond my years.</p><p>The worst ‘thing’ this illness has ever caused though, was waking up that very night, around 2 am, maybe it was 3. My back was to you and I could hear you cry. You were shedding your tears as if I had already died. It was horrible, Brian. I never wanted to see or hear you like that again. Your arms were still wrapped around my mid-section, holding me firmly. You were trying to keep your sobbing to a minimum, trying to keep your voice down to not wake me but it hadn’t worked and I couldn’t keep silent, I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t listening.</p><p>I rolled over to look at you, the moonlight shining through your patio door in your bedroom. I frightened you, you gasped mid-whimper, wiping at your eyes quickly once you realized I was awake.</p><p>“Stef,” you whispered softly, not really knowing what else to say.</p><p>“Baby,” I said sadly, pulling you towards me for a hug, holding your petite body as close as I could to my own.</p><p>“I don’t want you to die, Stef,” you whimpered, crying into my chest. “If I only could, Stef, make a deal with someone.. a higher power, GOD,” you started, babbling. “I’d get him to swap our places. I would fight this for you.” I shook my head quickly, pulling you away from me just a little so I could look you in the eyes.</p><p>“No, Brian. I would never wish this upon you, I would never want you to take this from me, I couldn’t handle seeing you with it,” I replied, finally letting my own tears fall down my cheeks, wetting my pillow.</p><p>“And you think I can!?” you sobbed, pulling me to you again in a tight embrace, feeling your wet eyelashes flicking on my chest “You’re going to fucking get through this, Stef. You’re going to get better.” I wanted to believe you, I made myself believe you when I heard those words and maybe that’s why I pulled you away from me again, but this time it was to kiss you. To let my tender lips taste yours again. Fuck, how I missed it.</p><p>You didn’t pull away from it, you hungrily accepted, your fingers running through my short hair as our lips massaged each others. I hate to say my illness brought us closer than ever, but in a way it did. All these months trying to hide from you, stay away from you to protect you when really all I needed was you beside me, you to remind me that I am Stefan Olsdal and I can fucking fight this head on. You’re the strength I need, Brian, and I hope you realized that.</p><p>Your right hand reached down between us, linking your fingers with mine so swiftly. Our hands clasped together, you rolled on your back, pulling you on top of me in one perfect movement. I remember your hot breath on my neck, our breathing heavy- practically exhausting ourselves with kisses.</p><p>“I love you,” you said softly, eyes glistening as if you were going to cry again. Being on top of you, I was so turned on from having your beautiful self under me, I remember praying to god- if there really was a god, that you wouldn’t cry. But it sure made me smile.</p><p>“I love you too, Bri,” I replied, probably the most sincere, true statement I had said to you in the past half year. You looked at me like you were trying to memorize every feature, like I could disappear at any moment and I hated it. I hated it so much, I leaned down to capture you in another beautiful lip-lock, wanting to forget everything. If there was one thing you’re amazing at, it’s making someone forget the world around them in a split second.</p><p>Your hands snaked between us, fingers dipping inside the waist band of my pajama pants and pulling them down, along with my thinn boxers, over my bottom. I pulled my mouth away from yours slightly, letting out a large pant as I started back into your eyes, wondering what you truly wanted.</p><p>“Make love to me?” you asked gently. You never called sex ‘making love’. You would call it screwing, shagging, fucking, every other word you could think of, but never something as corny as ‘making love’. But you were genuine, sincere with every word. You wanted to make love and it was so beautiful watching them leave your lips.</p><p>It seemed like a scene from some sappy romance movie, that you and I secretly adored watching together behind closed doors, and I had to beam while trying my hardest not to shed a tear before leaning down to kiss your lips.</p><p>Our clothes were shed slowly, piece by piece until we were completely naked under the covers together. Our hot bodies pressed against each other tightly as our hands happily explored places they had already been countless times before.</p><p>It reminded me of the first time we ever had sex, the first time we ever truly ‘made love’. The first time we ever did it in our shitty flat in Queens- both of us so nervous, embarrassed to be naked in our little double bed- your fairy lights you had taped on the ceiling of our small bedroom twinkling. It had been so perfect, so romantic. We had formed a bond then that we still have today, a bond that I have to fight for.</p><p>I tried to keep it together, to not cry while I kissed you, to not let out a sob while I felt your hands everywhere. You wrapped your legs around my waist so quickly, our hips pressed together before you expertly guided my hardening cock to your opening. You wanted me badly, but you knew I’d never hurt you out of my own selfishness. I remember barely able to wait to sheath myself inside you, but holding the head of my own cock, I let precum dribble over your tight pucker. I wanted to make you wet, prepare you as best I could for me. I had no idea whether you had been with other men or not- you were able to keep a secret or two yourself, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at that moment and it still doesn’t.</p><p>Wrapping your arms around my neck and pulling me down for a kiss, I felt you shift your hips, thrusting your body up to push the head of my cock inside you. I let out a loud moan into your mouth, our tongues now doing an exotic dance.</p><p>You gasped when I pulled out slowly, thrusting back in with precision. I wanted to make this pleasurable for you, I wanted to make it last because I was scared. I didn’t know when I could do this to you again, when I could make you moan, whimper, and shudder with pleasure again and that scared me.</p><p>I would never want to exchange this experience with you, Brian, as badly as you want to take it from me. I simply can’t let you. I love you too much.</p><p>Your long black hair began to slightly curl, forming a black halo above your head on the pillow as I began to pick up speed, kissing every inch of skin on your face, every inch of skin on your neck. I wanted to devour you in every way possible; I want to remember this as best I could just in case, not that I would ever say that to you.</p><p>Your legs tightened around me- we made love. I remember sinking myself deep inside your hot opening, prodding your prostate as best I could. Just to hear you cry out, to hear you scream in ecstasy. It was fucking perfect. I held out as best I could, wanting to cum with you, orgasm and ride out the waves of pleasure with you. The ultimate bliss.</p><p>When we finally reach our climax, you arch your back, pulling me in for another hot kiss as I continue to fuck you under me, nearly forcing your body up the bed with every thrust as I spill my seed inside you, your own splashing between our stomachs.</p><p>After we caught out breath and came down from our highs, I rolled off of you, you quickly rolling over to hug my side- which I gladly accepted. You laid your head on my chest and I felt closer to you in that moment than every before. We were cried out for the night, enough tears had fallen over something we couldn’t control. I had to retain my strength for the hill I was about to run up and I was scared shitless. But I knew you would be beside me every step of the way.</p><p> </p><p>TBC...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Running Up That Hill </strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>[Part 2 of 2]</strong>
</p><p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> Don't own the band. Don't sue.</p><p>
  <strong>*~*</strong>
</p><p>The few days I had until we had to leave- you were practically attached to my hip. Just like the good ol’ days. It reminded me of when we lived together, practically in each other’s pockets every moment, but it didn’t bother me. Not even for a second, it only made me smile. You with me during any of this mess is a blessing. I felt like a kid going on a rollercoaster for the very first time, but luckily, not by myself. <br/><br/>Almost everything you said, you would add a ‘when you get back’ to it… “I’ll leave this like that until we get back” or “We’ll leave your fish with Brix until we get back.” Until we get back. Always ‘we’ like there was not a god damn doubt in your mind I was going to come back.</p><p> </p><p>The night before we left, Steve had come by, as well as a few of our close friends. Everyone wished me well, telling me how they hoped we had a safe trip. They made it sound like we were going on an exclusive cruise, just the two of us. Don’t sun tan too much. Yeah, I wish. God how I wished that were true.</p><p> </p><p>Going to the airport was a rather normal thing for you and I. Even despite your fear of flying, how many hundreds of planes have we been on over the years? … But this time, on the way to the airport to catch our flight, our luggage in the trunk of the taxi, I remember trying to make myself feel like we were leaving for a tour. No big deal, right?</p><p> </p><p>You, however, were staring out the window of that car completely silent. It drove me nuts that I couldn’t read your mind as well as I used to anymore, not since you had found out. Truth was, you were afraid and I couldn’t help but put a hand gently on your thigh. Any small reassurance I could offer you, I did.</p><p> </p><p>Brian, I hope you know how grateful I am that you came with me- it meant so much to me. I would tell you, you would smile and say ‘of course I was going to come’ like there was never a doubt, but you kept your word. It was going to me as much of an ‘battle’ for me as it was going to be for you. Even while waiting for our plane, you never ceased to make me smile or giggle just from your worrying. It was all the little things I adored about you, I don’t even know if you truly understood, even now.</p><p> </p><p>“Hopefully, we’ll get a window seat so you can sleep… or are you thirsty? I want a snack. Do you want a snack? Fuck, I can’t believe our flight is 20 minutes late! That is just fucking perfect,” you grunted, practically ranting to yourself while pacing.</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down,” I said softly, slumping down in my seat in the large waiting area. I was in no mood to *hurry* there- not in the least. Once we got there, it would all be too real. And then I would have to deal with reality.</p><p> </p><p>“I bloody hate flying,” you spat, finally giving up and sitting back down beside me, pulling your side bag on your lap like you often did. I knew you hated flying, you knew I knew that you hated flying… you just said it to say it. Any conversation was good conversation all of a sudden; like you were afraid I would suddenly become even quieter than normal.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” I chuckled. You rolled your eyes and unzipped your little bag, digging in it for your mini compact mirror to check your makeup as you usually did time and again. It wasn’t enough that your MAC eyeliner said ‘waterproof’ on it- you always had to be sure it was working and don’t think for a moment I didn’t see you tear up now and then at the actuality of it all. You were as scared as I was and it’s okay to be scared.</p><p> </p><p> At that point, I couldn’t tell if you were nervous over me or from flying again.  Since we first got on a plane together, you would always hold my hand when we take off during a flight. Regardless of age, you would still do it and it made my heart melt to know some things never change. I smiled and put my arm around you. You didn’t have to come with me, to fight this with me- but here you were.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” I murmured tenderly, practically a whisper while you leaned your head on my shoulder… well arm- our height different always made leaning on my shoulder quite the obstacle for you. You grabbed my hand and squeezed it a bit.</p><p> </p><p>“The plane better not be late like this on our flight home,” you said matter-of-factly. OUR flight home. Whether you were trying to convince me or yourself, Bri, you have no idea how much I needed your strength at that moment- you were the extra push to get me on that plane to do this, to fight this.</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, high in the sky, your nails dug into the armrest a little as they always did during a flight- your silent way of coping. You gave me the window seat, urging me to get some sleep like a true mother hen and I couldn’t help but listen to you. Well, you really gave me no choice, but I couldn’t help but listen with a smile on my face.</p><p> </p><p>I had been looking out the window most of the time though, unable to rest my mind to actually find slumber-  instead finding comfort in the clouds that passed by.</p><p> </p><p>“Stefan.”<br/><br/>I heard your voice and I cocked an eyebrow- you must have seen my ‘awake’ reflection in the window or just sensed I wasn’t actually asleep. But the fact you used my full name made me a little apprehensive because you rarely ever did.</p><p> </p><p>I turned to look at you to see your pained expression.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your face looked so sad, it broke my heart. You looked like a beaten puppy and I was unsure of why now you randomly wanted to talk about it- had it really been on your mind since we left your flat to the airport? Or ever since you found out? Not that it mattered. Maybe it was just because you knew I had nowhere to run when we were so many thousands of feet in the air.</p><p> </p><p>“I…,” I stumbled, in speech anyway. I mean, I really didn’t have an answer for you.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you keep something like this from me, Stefan?” you asked softly. You had calmed down a lot since we had previously discussed this matter in the hospital. You thought it over, knowing harsh words or raising your voice wasn’t actually going to change the reality of it in the least.</p><p> </p><p>“What else are you keeping from me?” My best friend of almost two decades and here you were, ready to burst into tears. If the situation hadn’t been so damn bleak- I would have called you ‘cute’ or a ‘drama queen’ … but now wasn’t the time and I knew you had the right to question me. I imagine I would have too if I had been in your position. There were just so few things that you and I didn’t share with each other… if there was really anything. We knew everything about each other; we were in many ways two halves of a whole. A whole lot of something special that I didn’t want to fuck with. “Well?”<br/><br/></p><p>Silence wasn’t going to be a good enough response for you.<br/><br/>“I,” I started, biting my lip before continuing. “I pretended I was you.” You cocked an eyebrow in confusion, your face contorting while you tried to understand what I was trying to tell you. “I pretended I was you… swapped places. I asked myself if I could handle it. Knowing you had what I had… and the thought alone scared the hell out of me, Brian.”</p><p> </p><p>I looked around the plane, curious as to whether anyone was looking over and eavesdropping in on our soft conversation. I turned back. I still remember watching you process that through your head, understanding my reasoning but refusing to let it be *good enough* to not tell you.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like secrets,” you squeaked out. “Not between us.” You leaned in to hug me and I gladly accepted. But I still wished you had never found out, Bri. It would have made a whole lot of time a lot less painful.</p><p> </p><p>After we landed in Houston, Texas- my heart raced. A taxi was waiting for us outside the airport to collect us and bring us to the treatment center. You held my hand the entire time in the car, sitting close to me even though there was plenty of room on the seat. You hadn’t said a word since we got in- instead putting on your sunglasses and giving me silent reassurance that I desperately needed whether you knew it or not.</p><p> </p><p>“If I knew this place was so far from the airport, I would have peed before we left,” you said casually, looking out the window. If that was your attempt to make conversation, it worked. I laughed, hoping you were trying to lighten the mood. You giggled too and even though it only lasted a moment, it was well worth it.</p><p><br/>When the car pulled up to the large building, I read the sign. ‘MD Anderson Cancer Center: Making Cancer History’. I had to take a few deep breaths. I remember thinking at that moment how I wished more than anything that this was a dream. A really bad dream after eating too many Twinkies and Pringles at 3 AM with Steve on the tour bus. But no… here we were.</p><p> </p><p>Getting ‘checked in’ was an event all on its own and was a lot easier than I thought it would be. The staff acted as if they knew us for years- they were almost too friendly for doctors and nurses. A lot of deaths came along with a lot of illness- I remember being surprised at how many people could be so happy… so optimistic in a place like this, but I guess that’s what they were trained and taught to do. Who was I to question it? ‘Treatment’ had a bright side to. Like a bright light, didn’t it?<br/><br/>While I filled out the forms I needed to fill out, you did as well.</p><p> </p><p>“They want me to check into a fucking HOTEL,” you spat angrily, throwing your sunglasses into your bag and the clipboard with the forms on the coffee table in front of us. We were sitting in the cozy ‘waiting room’ while my room got sorted and you were already causing a fuss, but I loved it. It was you, it was us, I needed a ‘constant’ while being so far away from home and you were it. </p><p> </p><p>“The hotel is only three blocks away, we keep rooms reserved there for spouses, family and friends of our patients,” reassured one of the nurses. “If you two would like to follow me, I’ll show you to your room while you’re staying with us.” You kept your mouth shut, though nowhere near done making a fuss- of course not.<br/><br/>My room looked like that of a hospital room, however, instead of while bare walls, they were yellow. Pictures of wildlife and wilderness were hung, a closet, a large television, even an oak dresser. It was a decent attempt at trying to make it look like a real bedroom. It reminded me of your room when I had visited you in rehab so many years before and I wondered if it reminded you of the same.</p><p> </p><p>Soon after the nurse left, I placed my bag on the bed and turned to look at you, your face looking like it was watching spiders crawl up the corners. You clearly weren’t as impressed as I was. I think you were just trying to be difficult. The room was lovely, but you were finding a way to hate it. But it wasn’t the room you hated you hated being here. <br/><br/>I didn’t get a chance to question your disgust as my new doctor knocked on my open bedroom door, being polite and waiting until I said he could come in. His name was Dr. Ross. He was only a little taller than you but much older. He had a kind face, black glasses, and salt and pepper hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Stefan Olsdal?” he said happily. I nodded, smiling while you crossed your arms.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Dr. Ross; it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be your doctor throughout your stay with us,” he said politely, shaking my hand before turning to you to introduce yourself.</p><p><br/>“Brian,” you said flatly, not even extending your hand. <br/><br/>“He’s my partner,” I said, hoping that ‘title’ would make you smile. ‘Boyfriends’ was never a term we gave each other or ‘bandmates’. We were hubbies, though not legally married. We were musical husbands and that was that. We shared everything, there still hasn’t been a word invented that would describe our intense relationship and when there is, I would love to be notified.</p><p> </p><p>“Feel free to bring up any problems to me or one of the nurses- we want to make your environment as comfortable as possible, Stefan. That’s part of the treatment. Strong minds helps fight with a strong body-“ you cut my doctor off before he barely got started.</p><p> </p><p>“What if something happens?! I am three blocks away at a fucking hotel!” you snapped, trying to keep your tone down. “I need to be here, he needs me here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Bri, I’ll be okay,” I comforted. Dr. Ross wasn’t even phased by your attitude- he must have been used to drama queens- lucky him.</p><p> </p><p>“Our goal is to help Stefan. We’re all on the same page with the same goal. We want him to get better. We have new treatments, new therapies that will be tough, but could potentially save his life, Mr. Molko,” he said softly, sounding almost like a therapist.  “You are able to come and see him whenever you wish, you will have access.</p><p><br/>You were not happy, nor impressed by his response, but you fought with yourself to keep calm for me.</p><p> </p><p>Treatment had began almost immediately- full force. It was almost amazing how many different types of treatments, how many different types of chemotherapy and radiation therapy and medication one could take to help fight this and all sorts of cancers. All sorts of horrible diseases that could plague the body.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the positive outlook from all the staff- you were no more convinced. You wanted results like magic. But this wasn’t Cinderella and I didn’t have a godmother to bop her wand at me, Brian. But there you were by my side, practically from the moment I woke up, during the breaks of my therapy… there you were. I felt like shit, complete shit, constantly… but you stayed by my side. Talking to me tenderly as I threw up, giving me words of encouragement when I was in pain. You were just always there. I felt myself being drained of any and all energy and I wished I had had more time ‘awake’ to spend with you. It was awful to feel so exhausted all the time. <br/><br/>When I had a day off from all the beeping machines, phony smiles from the overly positive doctors and nurses who just wanted to help, from all the tubes, all the pills, … I wish I could say from all the sex and the drugs… heh. Just complications. Complications from this fucking disease that plagued me. But when I was able to have a few hours awake, just us, you and I would spend it in one of the gardens connected to the center. It was something I looked forward to.</p><p> </p><p>After almost three weeks here, I could feel you were becoming more reserved- but would put on a fake act for me. I had offered to go on a picnic and you must have looked at it like a way to escape. That day, tired as ever, I forced myself out into the gardens just to spend it with you. Everything hurt, I felt like I had a soft spot on almost ever inch of my skin, but it still seemed worth it to me.<br/><br/>“I got some cookies from the cafeteria at the center to have with our sandwiches. I told myself I was going to stick to my diet but fuck it,” I laughed jokingly, wanting to put a smile on your face even though I only received a little giggle. It was hard to get you to smile, a real genuine, gorgeous Brian Molko smile! Sure, you would throw out those ‘it’s going to be okay’- phony grins at me almost hourly. But you knew I could see right through it- you had to.</p><p><br/>You poured me a cup of orange juice- of course. You were my new dietitian it seemed, making sure I ate healthy 24/7. Watching everything I put into my body, no exceptions. It didn’t matter though; I let you if it gave you peace of mind and comfort.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” I said, giving a smile, putting up the glass for a ‘cheers’.</p><p> </p><p>“Drink it all,” you added quickly in a motherly tone. “Vitamic C is good for you.”<br/>Heh- coming from the guy who did almost as much coke in a sitting as Keith Richards…</p><p><br/>“Don’t worry, I will,” I sighed, laughing at you, though that was even starting to hurt a bit too. It was like this disease was sucking the life and everything I enjoyed with it right out of me.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you put on sunscreen? It’s so damn sunny here all the time; it almost makes me sort of miss London.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes I have my sunscreen, mum,” I teased. “What would I do without you?” <br/>You stopped pulling out our sandwiches from your bag and looked at me, putting on that plastic smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Likewise,” you replied softly.</p><p> </p><p>I ruined the light mood unintentionally and I instantly cursed myself at how I worded that…</p><p> </p><p>“How have you been feeling?” you asked- trying to sound optimistic. There was that fake plasticine grin- AGAIN.</p><p> </p><p>If truth be told, I wasn’t feeling fabulous, I wasn’t feeling better- but I would say anything to make YOU feel better and I hoped you believed me. I heard you outside my room sometimes, asking my doctor for updates- keeping tabs constantly. Everything they told you, they gave you an optimistic spin on it and I was so incredibly grateful they did just so they kept you in a state of sanity.</p><p> </p><p>“Still a little weak,” I replied. It was a lie. Weak was a fucking understatement of the century. “But the doctor said that was normal for this therapy.” You didn’t smile; you gave me a look full of worry. I could sense you were freaking out inside, but tried to keep calm- amazingly. The true Brian would have flipped out any moment after, but you were trying to keep a level head as Dr. Ross had said was crucial and it was so hard for you to not act on your Brian-like instincts. To impulsively freak out about my deteriorating health.</p><p><br/>You knew I wasn’t telling you everything about my wellbeing, at least I think you didn’t. We seemed to be in some stage of denial- just on opposite sides of the fence.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, eat some more mini carrots, I brought plenty,” you said flatly, changing the subject.</p><p> </p><p>“Any ice cream or chocolate in that bag for me?” I asked, teasing you again. Please, laugh. Please.</p><p> </p><p>“Junk isn’t going to help your body!” you spat- making a point. Of course, even if you didn’t have a point- you’d pretend you did.</p><p> </p><p>“Hun- I’m fine-“</p><p> </p><p>“Until you are one hundred percent BETTER, you’re not fucking fine, Stef!” You looked away instantly. You hadn’t meant to raise your voice, I know you didn’t. But you had so many emotions spinning in that little head of yours. “Sorry,” you apologized quickly, pushing your long black locks into a ponytail using an elastic on your wrist.</p><p><br/>“Bri- I want to have as much fun with you as I can,” I confessed softly. “Just incase-“<br/><br/>“Incase what?” You were angry now and I could see it. But not at me- the situation. You knew what, but I didn’t say a thing. “Stefan, there’s going to be plenty of more picnics! There’s going to be plenty of more… of everything! You’re going to bloody well get BETTER and that’s it- that’s final!” your voice broke near the end like tears were coming up but you didn’t cry. Just like a child who didn’t hear what it wanted to hear, you got up from our picnic blanket in a huff.</p><p> </p><p>“Bri… I just want to be realistic. I want to spend every spare moment I have with you-“</p><p> </p><p>“SHUTUP, STEFAN! I don’t want to fucking hear it,” you roared- suddenly lighting a cigarette that you would never offer me a drag of anymore because you wouldn’t let me smoke! You let out a large sigh, finally letting a few tears fall as you turned to leave. I wasn’t all too surprised by your reaction that day… but it hurt none-the-less. And I still know to this day that you weren’t angry at me. It was what was inside me that you had so much hate for.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, I had an intense radiation treatment set up for me and I had waited for you to give your ‘good luck’ hug and kiss that you always did, but when you didn’t show- still upset with me for what I had said- the doctors insisted we just go ahead with it.</p><p> </p><p>I was surprised you weren’t there, but I wasn’t upset with you. I could never be angry at you. I was so overly grateful you wanted to climb this hill with me in the first place, that I could never be upset with you. I had assumed it was just all too much. You were there almost every day in the hospital with me, watching me become weaker and weaker while the doctors tried to help me fight this.</p><p> </p><p>My hair was thinner, my body was frailer, my face-gauntly, and it was a struggle to get out of bed just to go to the bathroom at this point. It was like my body was failing me, jumping out of a plane and I was far from prepared.</p><p> </p><p>But one good thing, if you can even call it ‘good’ was the fact I slept through… almost everything. Which means I could sleep through some of the worst pain imaginable, physically and mentally. I was able to miss seeing your face when you eventually came to see me after my radiation, when they told you I had internal bleeding. One of the worst symptoms of leukemia is being able to bleed easily, and being unable to stop it. I was able to miss seeing your face when they told you they had to operate to stop it, when they told you there was a chance I wouldn’t make it that night. I can only imagine the tears you probably shed, the pacing in the hallways while you waited for me to come out of it. I missed all of that and I am only so grateful for that. I don’t think I would have been able to deal with it, to know that I was the one that put you through that; I probably would have wanted to die right there. I’m just so sorry I put you through all of this, I never thought in a million years something like this would happen to me. But I guess everyone who has cancer says the same thing…</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how I got through it, how they were able to stop it, but they did and I survived. Odds were against me and I beat it. Then again, the odds had always been against you and I and we always beat it. I came through that night after a few hours and I remember waking up to you sitting next to my bed, holding my hand again. Your face so tired, so worn. For the first time in a long time, you actually looked your age and I was so wretched I did that to you.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank fucking GOD, you’re awake,” you said relieved, wiping at your eyes. You had been crying again, I’m sorry. I felt so fucking weak from the moment I opened my eyes, I could barely turn my head to get a perfect view of you.<br/><br/>“Hey,” I replied rather hoarsely, my throat so sore. “We have to stop running into each other like this.” I chuckled softly and that hurt too. You didn’t laugh though, another attempt to see your beautiful smile was a complete fail. “<br/><br/>“God dammit,” you sighed. “Stef, you scared the living shit out of me.  The doctors told me you were bleeding internally- it’s my fault. You probably hurt yourself while we were on that stupid bloody picnic. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault, Bri-,” you cut me off.</p><p> </p><p>“You bleed so easily now, we have to be more careful. I almost lost you,” you sobbed, not even bothering to wipe at your tears that were profusely coming to the surface. I hated seeing you like this.</p><p> </p><p>“Bri-,” I wanted to comfort you- but you weren’t having any of it. That night, you ended up sleeping by my side in the chair, not wanting to leave me. The nurse brought you a blanket and a pillow; they weren’t even going to attempt to tell you to go back to your hotel room. In the weeks we had been there, a portion of the staff became familiar with your Molko-stubbornness rather quickly and that it was impossible to fight.</p><p> </p><p>The days to follow that, my radiation went as scheduled. It left me completely exhausted and hopeless despite the encouraging support I had to fight this, to climb this mountain that seemed impossible to reach the top of. I slept practically all day. It hurt to eat, my throat swollen and sore, it hurt to roll over in bed to even change positions. I remember at one point it felt like my entire body had just decided to stop working all together. It was scary. This leukemia and the radiation that was trying to kill the cancerous cells were also killing all my white blood cells and basically letting something like a common cold feel like it was the plague. It was horrible. I never felt well, I never felt awake, even if I slept for hours on end.</p><p> </p><p>It came to a spot where I couldn’t really do anything out of bed despite the times I was told to walk around the center, to get blood flowing in my legs to avoid blood clots. But you and I weren’t able to go out for anymore picnics or on walks, we couldn’t even go out for Starbucks- you had to bring it to me. Though that was rare- caffeine wasn’t good for me either and you rarely let me have it.</p><p> </p><p>We couldn’t do much, but lately, you had been starting to read to me. One of your favorites- ‘Perfume’ by Patrick Suskin. You would read a few chapters to me until I fell asleep. I loved it, I loved listening to your voice. It gave me great comfort to know that you were there, right beside me. And it was something we could share together while I rested.</p><p> </p><p>My fatigue worsening, Dr. Ross had said he needed to speak with me. You had ‘overheard’ this, aka eavesdropping outside my room and insisted you be present. I let you; there was no way I could keep you away. And to be completely honest, I was afraid to face what he had to say alone. <br/><br/>“The cancerous cells have not decreased as greatly as we had hoped. We’ll continue with a different type of radiation, but at this point- there is no definite outcome on how this could leave you and your body. You’re weak as it is and the last thing we want to do is put your body under pressure it can’t handle. But we’re going to remain positive and we’ll try everything we can. A different experimental radiation therapy tomorrow if you feel you can handle it -,” Dr. Ross was basically trying to put a positive spin on the fact I wasn’t getting any better- I was getting worse and you didn’t even let him finish.</p><p><br/>“I thought you were a treatment center!” you snapped. Dr. Ross gave you an apologetic look that probably only pissed you off more. “You have to do everything you can to save him-.<br/><br/>“We’re trying,” he assured.</p><p><br/>“Well try fucking HARDER!” you roared. You were a wreck.</p><p> </p><p>You had stopped wearing makeup and basically caring about your appearance. You would wear comfortable pants, a sweater, and your hair in a ponytail. You didn’t spend time on your face, eyeliner, mascara. Looking attractive was now unimportant. You didn’t waste time that you knew you could be spending it with me. Watching you yell at my doctor, watching you break down- I realized in that moment that you really were sharing this sickness with me. I could see what it was doing to you mentally and physically, just affecting you in a different way. </p><p> </p><p>That night you insisted once again to spend another night by my bed, just incase. You were afraid; I could see it in your eyes. You were more afraid than you had been in the last few weeks. I tried to tell you to go get some rest and that I’d be fine, that I’d see you tomorrow morning- but there was no trying to fight with you. It was hopeless, like arguing with you always has been.</p><p> </p><p>I woke up in the middle of the night, it was so odd because lately I could sleep twelve hours right through, my body and mind so exhausted, but here I was awake. Looking over at the clock that said 3:28 AM, I then looked over at you. The nightlights in my room near my door created a comfortable glow. I could see you. You were still awake and squeezing my left hand. I hadn’t even noticed you were clutching it until I looked down. You were such a comfort in all forms, it was like it was a part of me.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing awake, hun? You should be getting more sleep,” you said in that motherly tone again and I chuckled, throat still sore. I slowly shuffled my sore body closer to the other side of the bed, making you sit up straighter in the chair- as if I had just gone into a seizure when all I was simply doing was moving over. <br/><br/>“Stef, what are you doing?!” you questioned. “Are you uncomfortable? Do you have to go to the bathroom?” Yes, I even needed help getting out of bed with my horribly sore joints. Walking had even been a challenge lately; it was like I was age a hundred times faster than everyone else.<br/><br/>“Will you get in bed with me?” You stared, unsure of how to reply when I knew you wanted to join me so badly. We hadn’t been able to share a bed in well over a month now since we had arrived and we both missed it. We missed the intimacy.</p><p> </p><p>“You should be asleep,” you argued softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Please? For me?” You smiled, one of those real Brian smiles that I had missed so fucking much. You looked down at your hands, contemplating it before giving in. Taking off your shoes, you gently slipped under the covers beside me, as if I were a damn china doll. When in actual fact, the only doll was you. I put my arms around you and hugged you close. I had missed it so much. Sure, we hugged everyday, but to be under the warm covers, to have your gorgeous body next to mine, it was all I could ask for in that moment. “I’ve missed you,” I sighed.<br/><br/>“I haven’t gone anywhere,” you whispered, holding me close to you, both of us wanting to close any gap between us.<br/><br/>“I know. Just this.”</p><p> </p><p>We stayed that way, in our loving embrace for a little while until I placed a gentle kiss on your lips. It was soft and subtle and literally took your breath away. You let out a sigh when it ended and leaned in for another. We missed them, we missed them so much. I was overly grateful that they had removed me from an IV earlier and damn lucky I wasn’t on some heart monitor or it would have been doing a dance. I was able to just hold you, keep you close, no interference.</p><p> </p><p>Our kisses were passionate, but gentle. Everything was slow and soft. I didn’t have the energy to fuck you against a wall like I wanted, or to carry you off into the sunset like I wanted to even more- as corny as that sounds. As our kisses became deeper, more intense- you stopped- putting a soft small hand on my chest.<br/><br/>“Stef,” you panted. “We have to stop or I’ll…” <br/><br/>“Let me,” I whispered, kissing your cheek. Your eyes widened as you turned behind you at the door of my room- closed but unlocked. It was still technically a hospital after all.<br/><br/>“What if someone comes in?” you asked gently, but rather concerned.</p><p><br/>“Let them, I don’t care.”</p><p><br/>“But you need to sleep.” I know you loved to argue, but you weren’t going to win and you even knew you weren’t going to win. I didn’t even answer; I just leaned in and kissed you again- urging my tongue into your mouth to taste you. I missed your taste too. “I don’t want to hurt you.”<br/><br/>“I have cancer, I’m not paralyzed from the waist down,” I whispered, chuckling. Despite all the shit we had been through in the past little while that seemed like it had been lasting a year- my worsening health, your almost mental breakdown, Placebo technically on hiatus- you still laughed. After everything we had been through, we both laughed. We had to laugh at the rather ‘off-putting’ joke, otherwise we’d both probably cry.<br/><br/>You smiled at me again, looking at me in the eyes, moonlight shining from my window just a bit. I could feel both of our growing arousals and wanted to touch your hot skin- my slender fingers finding the bottom of your rather, sorry to say, ugly sweater that you had been wearing for practicality versus fashion. It was warm and comfortable and that’s all you had cared about because I was all that mattered now. Well I would wear the ugliest sweater next to your bedside too, Brian. Heh, in a heart beat.</p><p> </p><p>I pulled the garment off your body and instantly placed a kiss in the center of your bare chest, unable to help myself. You helped me pull down my pajama bottoms and pull off my top – actually wishing they had forced me to wear one of those hospital nightgowns that most public ones did- would have made the process a lot easier.</p><p> </p><p>Everything happened as if it were in slow motion, our kisses, our tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, out clothing disappearing, article by article.  By the time we were both naked under my covers, you had rolled on top of me after finally convincing you I could handle your weight. You were rather light, me suddenly a little concerned about YOUR diet. You had been remembering to eat, right? Your petite, feminine curves, your beautiful body on top of mine- I grinded our erections together. You let a tender moan escape your lips and it was music. We had let our foreplay linger, beautifully, for so long, we didn’t realize until that moment how aroused we were and so ready.</p><p> </p><p>I could see the concern in your eyes, whether or not we should go through with it, but we were both too far gone. I brought two of my fingers up to your lips slowly, letting them dip in your mouth, your tongue wrapping around them.</p><p> </p><p>I prepared you as best as I could, gently, tenderly, like the doll you were. You were so beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful, Brian, and I would never hurt you. Ever. Not on purpose. When I pushed my digits covered in your saliva inside you, you closed your eyes, adjusting to the intrusion until you whispered you were ready in desperation. <br/><br/>Still on top of me, you parted your legs, a knee on either side of my slim hips before my cock sought out your entrance and I pushed my hardness inside you. We both gasped, as quietly as possible while my lips wanted yours. We kissed, craving each other’s taste. It was beautiful, sharing our bodies this way. Despite the circumstances, we were creating something so beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>You laid down, completely on top of me, moving your body up and down, our chests rubbing. You were trying to do most of the ‘work’, still thinking I was too weak. Oh, Brian, your mother hen instinct could be so sweet sometimes. I love you, I’ll always love you.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t increase my pace, nor did you ask me too. We simply made love, softly, tenderly, beautifully. We shared each other to the point of no return. I kissed every inch of your face, looking right into those giant orbs that were your eyes as I continued to enter you smoothly. I enjoyed being inside of you, that comforting tightness around my cock. I could do it forever. Music wasn’t the only stunning thing we could make together.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow, we kept our noises to a minimum. I wanted to bring you to edge, make you cum- I felt I owed you that pleasure after everything I had put you through. You were always so beautiful when you came. I held onto your hips, finally increasing my pace as much as I could while feeling as weak as I did. You panted, laying your head down on my chest as you moved your lovely bum down to meet my thrusts, letting your tongue lap around my nipple playfully until your orgasm hit you. I felt your body shake and shiver, you holding me so close to you as your seed spilled between us.</p><p><br/>I continued to enter you, to fuck you and feel your tight heat surround me, just a few more thrusts until I finally gave into oblivion and came as well. My hot cum filled you in streams while I kissed you to silence my moans that I wanted to scream to the heavens. You let out a tiny squeak as your walls milked me, you always secretly enjoying the hot mess I left inside you, you kinky minx.</p><p><br/>When I finally pulled out of you, I kissed your lips again, an innocent little peck that lasted a little longer than I had intended. But who was I kidding? Our kisses always ended up lasting longer than we intended them to be, we both couldn’t help it. <br/><br/>You rolled off me ever so gently, letting out a soft sigh, holding me so close to you, an arm wrapped around my middle. We stayed like that for a little bit, it still being very early in the morning.<br/><br/>“I should get back in my chair,” you whispered, smiling at me. I pouted, giving you a taste of your own medicine. <br/><br/>“Stay,“ I ‘begged’ softly. “Stay beside me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if the nurse comes in here and see us naked?” You were never one to give a fuck about what anyone thought, you always did whatever you usually wanted to do- but your concern for me was still overbearing.</p><p> </p><p>“Then let her,” I chuckled, kissing your forehead.  “Sing something to me.” <br/>It was a silly thing to ask, it was a silly thing to bring up in that moment. The thousands, hundreds of thousands of times I had heard you sing in my life, I wanted to hear you more than ever at that moment.<br/><br/>“What?”<br/><br/>“Something. Anything. Softly, please?” You cocked an eyebrow at me. Wondering why after we made love, naked in a bed a little large than the average hospital bed, I would ask you to sing. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling at me as you scooted even closer to me, if that was possible, to lay your head on my chest. I loved when you did that. I put my fingers in your long black hair, petting you.</p><p> </p><p>“And if I only could make a deal with God, I’d get him to swap our places,” you sang in a whisper, taking a deep breath. “Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building.” Your voice was even lower now. You sang ever so softly, coaxing us both into sleep. Our bodies pressed together, after being one. In the face of everything that had happened, it was a perfect night, THE perfect night. Which so happened to be my last on this planet.<br/><br/>That night, a little while after we fell asleep, I had a small brain hemorrhage that put me into a coma. After that night, I never woke up. But I went in my sleep, after spending one of the most amazing nights I could ask for in my condition. I couldn’t ask to go any other way. <br/><br/>Months after I passed, I watched you turn into a complete hermit, hiding away from the world. Placebo ceased to exist, as did you, on the inside. I’ll be watching over you, whether you want me to or not and I know one day you’re going to find the strength to move on, to move past it. To let me live in your thoughts, your memories, your heart. To remember all the amazing things we shared- our music, our passion, our love, our sex, our friendship. We’re soulmates, through and through, Brian. And I know you know that. It hurts to watch you in such sorrow, to cry over me every night in your bed holding onto my shirt, my scarf, anything that smelled like me. It hurts me to see I left you in such pain, but we’ll see each other again one day. Until then, I’ll keep an eye on you.</p><p> </p><p> I’m sorry I left this earth too early, in a way, I feel cheated. So many years I have to miss out on with you. I don’t get to grow old with you. But I’m not sorry that it was me instead of you. If one of us had to try and fight this battle, to try and run up that hill, I’m glad it was me and not you. And I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the top.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>End.</strong>
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